


i am never without it (anywhere i go you go)

by BlackBlood1872



Series: Your Soul As Mine [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Gen, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pre-Relationship, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), set right at the beginning of it all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 03:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20789966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackBlood1872/pseuds/BlackBlood1872
Summary: “A bit on the nose, isn’t it?” Crawly says. “Me, a demon, pretending to beyour daemon.”





	i am never without it (anywhere i go you go)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is of course from E. E. Cummings' "i carry your heart with me (i carry it in" because I've become _that_ person  
Jk y'all are great
> 
> Short daemon au cuz I don't know if it's been done already but I had it in my head and needed to write it down

Angels (and, by extension, demons) do not have souls the same way humans do. Of course they don’t. Angels are a different sort of being, created ages earlier, or what would be ages if it hadn’t happened before time existed as it does now, using different techniques and materials and, well. You get the idea. When God created humans, She'd had plenty of metaphorical time to think of new things and invent new techniques and, as such, the humans were drastically different from angels.

They carry part of their soul on the outside.

It is incredibly obvious that one is _not_ human when one _does not_ show their soul this way.

Thankfully, Aziraphale knows someone who is in the same boat and is able to transform into an animal.

“A bit on the nose, isn’t it?” Crawly says, scowling over at the angel. “Me, a demon, pretending to be _your daemon_.”

(Since it’s only the first time they’ve met, Aziraphale doesn’t feel anything particularly special at the suggestion that Crawly could be in some way _his_.

This will change.)

“Well, if you want your nature to be _obvious_ during your stay on earth, be my guest,” Aziraphale replies waspishly. “They _will_ notice that you aren’t human, and then where will you be?”

Crawly continues to scowl. “Why don’t _you_ be the animal?” he grumbles.

Aziraphale purses his lips. There are plenty of reasons he can think of. He’s an angel and he needs to be in human form to spread faith and goodness. If Crawly is stuck as a snake, he’s much less likely to cause discord and strife. If he’s stuck as a snake, _and_ stuck with Aziraphale, he'll be able to keep an eye on the demon to _make sure_ he’s not spreading evil.

More important than any of that: he doesn’t _want_ to take on an animal form.

Aziraphale pretends he didn’t hear the comment instead of saying any of that.

The two of them spend the next several minutes in silence, watching the first humans venture into the world. Watching the clouds gradually darken. Aziraphale lifts a wing without much thought when those clouds break open, and doesn’t glance over when Crawly scoots closer.

(He doesn’t look, because he’s scared that doing so will scare him away and he hates the thought of that.

They’ve known each other for several minutes now, and Aziraphale has the faintest inkling that he is going to become incredibly fond of this demon. He doesn’t know what to do with that inkling, and so he pushes it down as deep as it will go to think about later.

Much, much later.)

The humans eventually disappear from view, either through distance or the blur of rain, and Aziraphale realizes dimly that that’s probably not a good thing. He’s supposed to be keeping an eye on them. Keeping track of them, making sure they survive long enough to _be_ the start of the human race, rather than the end of it.

“Suppose we should go after them, shouldn’t we?” Crawly muses.

“Quite,” Aziraphale agrees. He peeks at the demon without moving his head. Crawly looks vaguely frustrated, expression pinched. After a long moment, he closes his eyes and sighs deeply.

“_Fine_,” he grouches—and then his human façade melts away until all that’s left is a large coil of black and red snake. Aziraphale deliberately does not smile. Crawly-the-snake slithers closer to him, and winds up Aziraphale's arm when he offers it, looping around his shoulders. He’s smaller when he settles, easier to carry, easier to blend in—if the angel had been wearing anything to blend in _with_. Crawly's dark scales are incredibly obvious against Aziraphale's pure white robes.

“Let'sss get going, angel,” he mutters, tongue darting out and brushing against Aziraphale's cheek. Aziraphale suppresses a shiver, and then takes flight, cutting through the rain and heading towards where he last saw Adam and Eve go. “Long night ahead.”

And they would go off into it together.


End file.
